


Discord ficlets

by kiki_92



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Character Death, Drunken Shenanigans, Ficlet Collection, French insults, Fuze is a badass, Humor, Jealousy, Karaoke, Kissing, Multi, Or Is It?, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Public Display of Affection, Slice of Life, Strip Poker, Unrequited Love, no beta we die like (wo)men, non-consensual hair dying, outfit swaps, saving the hostage, silly flexing competition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-05-13 06:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 12,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14744021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_92/pseuds/kiki_92
Summary: Collection of short ficlets/drabbles I wrote on Discord. Will keep adding as I write more shortiesNew Chapters:22 is SAS and GSG9 uniform swap23 is Smoke/Lesion drunk shenanigans





	1. Caveira/Buck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written because of the amazing Cav/Bucko art Peri makes *_*

She didn’t like the cold, that much was clear. A shame, since she did look stunning with snowflakes caught on her dark braid. Taina exhaled loudly on her hands, rubbing them together. Buck could tell it did not work as intended by the string of angry Brazillian cursing.

Buck approached her, smiling as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. He reached for her hands, holding them between his. For once, Taina allowed it all without complaining or fighting him off. A disconcerting but welcome change and hope bloomed in his chest.

Caveira disentangled their hands and turned around. There was a twinkle in her eyes that meant trouble, and Buck dived in, going for her tempting lips. And like so many times previous times, she turned her face and thwarted his kiss. Used to her behaviour, Buck kissed her cheek instead, smudging her facepaint.

“One day I’ll get a kiss from you, _ma chérie_.”

She looked up at him, like a cat ready to attack you after luring you in being cute. She grabbed him by the beard and yanked on it, beckoning him closer. The kiss was brief, hard, and much more intense than Buck had thought it would be. Then Taina bit his lower lip and Buck moaned.

“ _Oh Deus, eu quero montar seu rosto_ , ****** ” Caveira whispered against his mouth.

“What was that?” He hadn’t understood a word of it, but Buck had the feeling it would mean trouble for him once again.

Taina’s predatory smirk didn’t reassure him in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

 ******   _Oh Deus, eu quero montar seu rosto =_ Oh God, I want to ride your face


	2. Lion flashes Doc the wrong message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Running with the idea of one of the ops having "Dermatographia" and using it to write on their body

Being a doctor meant you put your personal prejudices to the side while treating patients, no matter who they were. But Doc had to admit he sometimes had trouble not being a bit harsher than necessary when treating Lion.

At least his main condition was not something that required treatment, since the symptoms disappeared on their own in just a few minutes. And it if it itched him, well, it was Lion’s own damn fault most of the time. The man exploited his dermatographic urticaria to scratch messages on his arms all the time.

The first time he’d done so, he had come to Doc’s office complaining about an intense itch and burning sensation in his arm. Repressing a long suffering sigh, Doc had gone to examine him, even if what he really wanted was to tell him to fuck off from his office. However, when Lion rolled up his sleeve, a message was revealed. The man had scratched on his arm until thanks to his condition it the words _Fuck you_ appeared on his skin. Doc was livid. How dare this _connard_ make him lose his time like that! The whole thing ended in a shouting row, which had to be broken up by Monty and Twitch.

After that incident, Lion started going into the same room Doc was in, sit somewhere in front of him, and then casually roll up his sleeves while he talked with Monty or Finka. The _Fuck you_ message was always there, and Doc seethed internally like a pressure cooker about to explode. _Fils de pute_ , he knew what he was doing, and it amused him greatly. The good news is that he wasn’t doing this just to Doc, sometimes he’d also flash his arm messages to other people, including one that said _ostréipyge_ , which made Rook cry from laughter. In fact, nobody seemed offended by any of his messages, yet all Doc dreamed about was for someone to slap that smug, shit eating grin from his face. Preferably himself. But Doc believed in being the bigger person and not starting more conflict just for the sake of fleeting personal satisfaction.

Things came to a screeching halt one morning during breakfast. the whole GIGN team was having their coffees and toast in companionable silence of those who have just woken up, when Lion strode in. He sat between Rook and Twitch, right in front of Doc, nursing his cup of coffee and fiddling with his sleeve. Doc took a deep breath, knowing what was going to happen.

However, when Lion rolled up his left sleeve, the message displayed wasn’t the one Doc expected. He choked on his coffee upon seeing the red welts spelling _Fuck me,_ the hot beverage scorching his tongue as he flailed uselessly. Doc looked at his face, and the utter _branleur_ smirked at him. He abruptly got up, chair scratching loudly against the floor tiles, and Doc stormed off wishing he could pluck Lion’s eyes out. He felt like he needed brain bleach.

Lion’s smug satisfaction didn’t last much though, since Montagne had been sitting next to Doc and saw everything unfold with much interest.

“You flashed him the wrong arm Olivier.” Colour drained from Lion’s face and then Monty allowed himself a chuckle.

Such a good way to begin the morning.


	3. Doc doesn't like the moustache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I don't like the porn-stache ubi gave Doc so I decided it's not real, lol

Doc glared at his reflection on the mirror, eyes narrowing dangerously as he was faced with a version of him that apparently had a moustache. This screamed Bandit all over, but he only knew he had fallen asleep on his desk and awoken like this.

Washing it off did not work. Brain still fuzzy from sleep, Doc panicked slightly. He couldn’t go on like this! Nobody was going to take him seriously, he looked like out from a bad 70s porno! He remembered he had rubbing alcohol back on his office and sighed in relief. Now he only prayed he wouldn’t find anyone in the meantime. He wasn’t ready for the world to see him like this.

He was already planning to bribe Dokkaebi so she could hack into the security system and see who had attacked his dignity like that. See how they liked it when they had a doctor in search of revenge. The only weak link in his plan was that Doc wasn’t 100% sure Dokkaebi wouldn’t think it hilarious to leak images of him with the moustache or keep them as blackmail material.


	4. Outfit swap - Buck & Fuze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with the outfit swap idea, I'm open to doing more if someone makes a request

The chequered red and black jacket fit him tightly over his chest, but he still could move with more or less ease. It was surprisingly warm for being such a light garment. No wonder the Canadian was always outrunning him, his gear was much less heavy than what Fuze usually carried! He only had one complaint though.

“Why is your face so exposed?” The Uzbek yanked the beanie down to his eyebrows, cursing the lack of appropriate face cover.

All the answer he had from Buck was some muffled wheezing as he finished adjusting the last layer of Fuze’s new protective suit. The Canadian wasn’t having a good time. Thanks to the helmet and the heavy suit he had the sensation of being encased in a walking oven, the goggles getting fogged over with his breath.

“So, uh, can you actually run in this?” The whole ensemble was unwieldy and his respect for the Uzbek increased tenfold, since he could barely move in this blimp of a suit.

“It’s heavier than the old one,” Fuze admitted while fitting a pair of biker goggles over his eyes and zipping the jacket all the way up to his chin. “But you can fall downstairs and not feel a thing.”

No kidding, Buck could barely feel his arms now if he tried to move them. “I’m gonna need help to get out of this.”

 

* * *

 

OUTFITS SWAPPED:

 


	5. Outfit swap - Blitz & Rook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some shippy outfit swap this time

The Gendarmerie armour wasn’t as heavy as Blitz thought it would be, but it was considerably bulkier than his usual ensemble. The worst were the leg guards, those things were uncomfortable and dug into his knee whenever he moved. And why were they needed in the first place? He felt like some kind of medieval warrior with greaves.

“This is _all_ the protection you carry, _mon coeur_?” Rook sounded rather horrified, gesturing wildly at the gear he was wearing now.

Yeah, Blitz could see why he felt like that after experiencing the crazy levels of heavy protection his boyfriend usually wore.  Jeans and a bulletproof vest seemed insufficient when compared to the GIGN armour.

“That’s why I carry the shield,” he mollified the worried Frenchman. Although that certainly wasn’t the reason, otherwise the rest of his GSG9 team mates would also have one.

The excuse worked, though. Rook picked up the shield and examined it, looking at it like one looks a strange pebble found in the beach. “So how do you trigger the flash? You just _bam!_ And that’s it?”

As he said that, he moved the shield forward aggressively. The result was that Blitz ended being physically hit by the shield and flashed at the same time, which knocked him down on his ass. Rook’s litany of “ _Sorry, sorry!”_ was mixed with ringing in his ears from the flashbang, and Bandit’s hyena cackling from the doorway. Great, he would never let any of them live this down.

 

* * *

 

OUTFITS SWAPPED:

 


	6. Outfit swap - Lesion & Tachanka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have an outfit swap request, leave it in the comments!

Tachanka looked at his reflection on the full body mirror and decided he looked like a damned tourist. Even with the protective vest and the row of poisonous vials, he still thought he would fit no problem taking a stroll on the beach. For fuck's sake, he wore a Hawaiian shirt! At least he wasn’t wearing sandals. In a concession to his trademark style, he covered his face with a camo patterned balaclava and stuck the toothpick on it, having no idea of what else to do with it.

“Are you sure this is a tactical outfit?” He asked to Lesion.

“More tactical thank this,” Lesion shot back, voice dulled by the full helmet of Tachanka’s usual and eternal ensemble. “With mine I can move faster and make less noise than with this tin can.”

“Tin can? It’s proper Russian protection!” Tachanka still thought Lesion’s outfit was ridiculous and impractical. Why have so much skin exposed when you carried toxins on fucking glass vials? It made no sense.

“I miss my toothpick,” Lesion confessed. Taking pity on him, Tachanka unstuck it from the balaclava, lifted the faceplate of the helmet and gave it to Lesion. When he lowered it again, a small snapping sound was heard when the toothpick broke.

“Oh, now it fits in here!” Well, at least Lesion was looking at the bright side of things.

 

* * *

 

OUTFITS SWAPPED:

 

 


	7. Outfit swap - Kapkan & IQ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After certain developments on tumblr yesterday I *had* to write this one! :D

Green had always suited him fine, unlike the tight pants he was wrestling to put on. Kapkan was surprised the seams hadn't ripped, IQ wasn't exaggerating when she said the fabric was more durable and stretchy than it looked. The tight pants left little to the imagination, although he had to admit his ass looked fantastic.

"And you work out in these?" Kapkan asked, watching the strange neckline of the shirt hugging his muscles and showing his collarbones. He had a feeling his usual hood would not fit well with the rest of the outfit.

"They're comfortable and retro, what else can I ask for?" IQ grinned at him from beneath the cap of his Vympel uniform.

Well, it did look good on her, depsite having to fold up the trouser's cuffs to not step on them accidentally. IQ did one of her flurry of moves, air punches and kicks that looked sort of funny unless you were being hit, then it was painful. 

"Ha, a fierce comrade!" Kapkan laughed. The uniform was extra baggy on her, but she looked strangely adorable. "Now you only need some facepaint."

"I like it!" She decided. "Do you want to show up like this on the gym?"

Kapkan tried some his knife-training moves, marveling at how well he was able to perform, despite how skin tight the clothes were. Not bad at all, the outfit actually offered a lot of mobility range. However, he wasn't sure he wanted everyone seeing him dressed like that. Kapkan was about to refuse, but he had to admit seeing his team mates' faces would be priceless. 

"Lead the way," he grinned mischievously, gesturing at her to go ahead. Let's see if Timur could pretend he wasn't ogling him now.

 

* * *

 

OUTFITS SWAPPED:

 

 

Check out the end notes for art of Kapkan in IQ's outfit! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one comes with art! Kapcan on tumblr drew this amazing thing: http://r6shippingdelivery.tumblr.com/post/174474803087/please-imagine-kapkan-in-iqs-elite-skin-doing


	8. Outfit swap - Glaz & Ela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand, here it is!

Considering how tight the pants felt, he might as well have painted them on instead of fitting himself inside Ela's form hugging leggings. Glaz wasn't completely sure the seams wouldn't burst open if he tried moving in them. He hadn't closed the jacket in favour of being able to breathe, and the elastic shirt underneath was sticking to him like a second skin. Despite being completely clothed, he felt somewhat exposed. Completely opposite of how Ela looked right now.

"I feel like I'll get lost inside here," she commented as she tested how she moved in Glaz's gorka suit.

It felt weird to not be wearing a face wrap as he usually did. One similarity they both shared was the headgear, with a cap and hearing protection. Although Ela's green hair always peeked from beneath the cap. She looked at him and giggled. She giggled. Like she didn't look as his suit was going to eat her!

Striking a parody of a sexy pose, Glaz said, "Chaos is my home."

Ela gaped at him, her outraged expression was so hilarious he couldn't contain his laughter.

"Bullets are better than words," Ela mimicked him, dropping her voice ridiculously.

"I do not sound like that!"

"You do!"

Their friendly fight was stopped by a wolf whistle and the dreadful sound of a camera snapping a picture. Kapkan and Valkyrie had teamed up and were grinning at them from the other side of the open door. At least Glaz was almost sure Valkyrie wouldn't leak that image of him to the rest of the base.

 

* * *

 

OUTFITS SWAPPED:

 

 


	9. Small Details - ValkEla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a direct continuation from the last chapter! Let's have a bit of ValkEla

Hearing the click of the camera, Ela felt again like a teenager caught red handed doing something she shouldn't. Which was stupid, and furthermore Meghan was smiling warmly at her.

"I don't know whose idea it was, but I love it," Valkyrie said while snapping another picture.

"Are the pictures necessary?" Glaz did sound mortified. Honestly, if Ela was in his place she'd be more worried about Kapkan's predatory eyes than Meghan taking a picture.

"Don't worry Timur, you won't be wearing this outfit for long." Ela could _hear_ the smirk in Kapkan's voice. "C'mon let's peel these off of you."

Dragging him by the hand Kapkan took a blushing Glaz away, and Ela suddenly feared for the integrity of her usual outfit. "Glazkov! You break or stain my clothes and I will make you pay!"

With a parting snort from Kapkan, the Russian lovebirds disappeared and Ela was left alone with Valkyrie, who kept looking at her with an amused expression that had no business making her look so endearing.

"I must confess I think you make a better looking Glaz. Might be the green hair, might be the beautiful woman wearing the outfit.”

A small smile bloomed on Ela’s face, because of course Meghan would say so. It still made her heartbeat flutter when she flirted with her, despite being together for months now. “Oh, a beautiful woman you say?”

“Yes, but my girlfriend’s the oblivious type.”

They both burst laughing, remembering that that time a newly arrived Dokkaebi spent a whole afternoon trying to flirt with Ela, who didn’t react to any of it until Valkyrie put an arm around her, smiled at the frustrated Dokkaebi and told her _“_ _Don_ _’_ _t worry, my girlfriend_ _’_ _s the oblivious type._ _”_ It technically wasn't true, of course she had noticed! She just ignored Dokkaebi feeble advances. Although it had been interesting to see Valkyrie possessive side, no matter how the American denied it.

“I’m going to the shooting range, wanna come?”Ela asked her.

The other woman agreed and brought the camera along. Ela knew her well enough to know Valkyrie would take some candid shots of her while she was distracted. It was fine, those pictures were just for them, and Meghan kept them all stashed in a box labelled _treasures_ , the lovable dork.

Once at the range, Valkyrie proposed her a challenge. “Why don’t you use a sniper rifle? Since you’re sort of impersonating Glaz.”

The training weapons were old, and generally not in a pristine condition. They were mainly used by recruits who still didn’t have the basics down, and their accuracy was probably out of whack. Ela wasn’t a fan of making an ass of herself, much less in a public location or when it came to her skills.

Sensing her indecision, Valkyrie upped the stakes. “C’mon, it will be fun. And  you’ll get a kiss for each shot that hits the bullseye.”

Unfortunately, Ela was also very competitive and never backed away from a challenge. And the incentive helped tremendously to sway her opinion. The sniper rifle was heavy on her hands, an American model that was very different from what she'd seen Glaz use. Well, it made no difference since Ela had never used any of them before. Valkyrie stayed a few steps behind her, the camera snapping away every now and then while Ela familiarized herself with the heavy weapon.

To start with, positioning the rifle with its support on the ground was weird. She had no idea if it was right or not. Ela lay down and looked through the scope. The target was much further away than she was used to, even if these weapons were made for long distance, part of her doubted it could land a hit. Well, time to test it. First shot hit the periphery of target, which was more than Ela had hoped for. The next one was a colossal miss though.

The recoil was fierce and Ela repositioned the rifle before attempting another shot. This one landed closer to the centre and she smiled. Perhaps she was getting the hang of this. However, ten shots later she was out of practice ammo and still hadn’t hit the middle of the target not even once. Ela scowled at the rifle, she had hoped to impress Meghan. And get that kiss too, yes.

Getting up and looking back at Valkyrie, she saw that Meghan was looking far away, towards the entrance of the shooting range. “There’s a group of recruits looking at us. I think you might have destroyed Glaz’s reputation.”

Ela saw them, huddled in a circle and whispering amongst themselves. Maybe from that distance they could mistake her for someone else, but she doubted it. Although the baggy suit hid her figure, making her look much broader than she truly was.

“Want to mess up with them?” Valkyrie whispered, pocketing the camera at last. Ela nodded, because why not, surely it would make better gossip than the tale of how she failed in her sniping adventure.

Valkyrie then tackle hugged her and lifted her off the ground in a quick spinning motion, which had Ela yelping in surprise, before setting her down on the ground and leaving a lingering smooch on her cheek. Ela was suddenly taken aback by the thought that this was what happiness felt like. It was random, joyful and unexpected details that filled up your day with warmth. And since at the moment words failed her to tell Valkyrie how happy she felt to have her in her life, physical action took over and Ela leant forward to kiss her again, properly this time.

Of course, the recruits spread gossip like it was a wildfire. About Valkyrie and ‘Glaz’, and how she was so ripped she could lift off the ground a Spetsanz without breaking a sweat. All things considered, it was the best outcome possible of all the gossip that could have been started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Silky, happy birthday!


	10. A peaceful moment - BandiJäger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Bandit/Jäger slice of life drabble I wrote based on some art I saw on tumblr  
> http://azrakel09.tumblr.com/post/174977929694/what-am-i-doing-i-honestly-dont-know-i-just

Watching Jäger play with the kitty was pretty entertaining. The tiny ball of fur was purring as Jäger scratched her head, her small paws leaving thin claw marks on his protective best. The best part of it all was Jäger cooing nonesense pet names at the cat. Bandit could imagine perfectly the adorable, dopey smile on his boyfriend’s face, despite the headgear still on him.

They had come home late, knackered from a brutal training session before their imminent deployment for a mission in two days. And so they just plopped down on the couch without even bothering to take off their helmets and tactical vests. The cats didn’t care, and neither did they. This was in fact one of his favorite moments in the day, unwinding at  _their_ home with Marius laying on him, usually with the TV as a background noise until one of them fell asleep. The other best part of the day was of course waking up next to Marius every morning. 

“You’ll be good for auntie Monika while we’re gone, right?” Jäger babbled to the cat on his chest, who just mewed happily at the attention she was receiving.

Bandit snorted because Monika could see the cats clawing the house to pieces and she’d still say they were two angels. Not that Elias was any better. How did he end up surrounded by cat people it was a mystery. The grumpy beast on his lap sunk his claws on his jeans, demanding more attention. Bandit hissed and resumed petting the cat, eager to avoid more scratch marks on his flesh. Not the fun kind of scratch marks though, he didn’t mind those at all.

“How about we hit the shower and then go to bed,  _liebling_?” He asked Jäger, who kept bothering the cat. 

“Yeah, I’m tired.” He took a moment to consider Bandit’s words. “Normal shower or  _fun times_  shower?”

“Uhm,” Bandit pretended to consider the options. “Whichever you prefer.”

“Then we skip the shower and just cuddle in bed.” Jäger answered, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. 

Yes, that worked for him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're feeling evil, consider this may be happening before my story "Brave, smart, or lucky - you will still die"  
> (I prefer to think they live happily together with their cats, ok?)


	11. Playing strip poker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to blame & thank Discord for this idea, it was supremely fun to write xD

Poker night had become sort of a tradition at the base. It was something entertaining to do, and most of the operators liked betting as well. Even if not everyone joined to play, of course. Some people didn’t like poker, or betting. But they still came to watch the madness unfold, and it was a way to spend time all of them together.

At some point down the line, poker nights became strip poker nights. That was when Twitch stopped participating. She still came to watch as others were reduced to their underwear, and when things were dull she conversed with Echo about their drones, since he didn’t like playing either. Later Lion became another fixture to Twitch’s party, usually watching entranced as others played and got progressively naked, but would look uncomfortable if he was caught, admiring any of the half dressed operators. It was all fine in Twitch’s book, she did her fair amount of ogling at all those muscles in display. And display they did, almost running a side competition to see who was more fit and muscular. The perfect entertainment for a lazy Sunday night, while having a glass of vintage wine graciously procured by Lion.

“Whose idea was to start playing strip poker?” Alibi asked, eyeing her cards with a neutral expression.

“Thermite.” Ash and Pulse said in chorus.

“Hey now, I just betted my clothes cause I had nothing else to bring to the table!”

“Exactly, you set the trend.” Ash barely paid attention to him anyway, studying the faces of everyone around the table.

Twitch took a sip of her glass of wine and let her gaze wander over them all. Fuze was down to his socks and underwear, scowling at the cards like he wanted them to catch fire. Both Caveira and Valkyrie had shed their shirts and seemed completely fine being in their trousers and bra, while last round Ash opted to shuck of her pants and viciously threw them to Mira’s face for winning the round. Maestro had been keeping Thatcher’s clothes hostage and seemed really pleased with the situation until Thatcher stormed off just in his underwear, flushed and muttering curses left and right. Then the Italian left after him and neither had returned yet.

The only ones still completely clothed, except for the socks maybe, were Glaz and Castle. And it seemed unlikely neither of them would lose a piece of clothing this round either. What a shame, really. With a groan, Ash folded and decided to not push her luck. Castle and Bandit followed her example as well.  Damn, now Twitch was sure Glaz had won the round. Again.

Indeed the sniper had the winning hand, and was now collecting pieces of clothing from them all. Alibi handed her scarf, to everyone’s disappointment. Bandit said something rather crude and the Italian pinned a death glare on him. However, this was all overshadowed by the fact that Sledge had lost his last piece of clothing and was down to his underwear. A chorus of _“Flex, flex, flex!”_ had erupted over the table, and Twitch smiled lightly. Another tradition that nobody could remember who started. Perhaps it had been Tachanka the first time he lost, and decided to showcase to everyone his amazing physique. She remembered at least one instance were Mira had touched his biceps in admiration and then the Russian had snatched the Spaniard up like a trophy while flexing.  Valkyrie also was another one to enjoy making ridiculously over the top displays while she flexed, on the occasions she lost. Ela was usually involved in said displays.

However Sledge wasn’t shy either, he had no problem hopping up on his chair and then making a few poses while the table erupted in hoots and laughter. Oh god, he was made of solid muscle, Twitch mused. By the corner of her eyes, she spotted Vigil, surreptitiously taking off his shirt while everyone was busy cheering on Sledge. But someone else noticed.

“ _Oppa_ , you’re shredded!” Dokkaebi squealed in surprise, phone already in her hands.

True, Vigil was rather muscular, although not as much as say, Tachanka or Sledge or Blackbeard. It was still damn nice. Dokkaebi’s comment brought a sudden commotion as people argued over who else was more ripped than it may look like at first glance. Fingers were pointed, shirts were tossed aside, and biceps were flexed. And then Thermite got up from his seat, unashamed of his Kermit the frog boxers, and pointed a finger dramatically at Castle.

“Miles, avenge the honor of the SWAT team, shed off your shirt!”

With the weary sigh of someone who knew it was better to comply than to argue, Castle stood up and took off the garment as Thermite so kindly asked. Twitch gasped, as did Lion and Echo by her side. Despite his rather average appearance with his clothes on, the man was sculpted like a roman statue. A true Adonis like Twitch hadn’t seen before. Damn. She finished her glass in one single gulp, feeling the wine heat her up. Sometimes poker night was a true gift. Her phone buzzed on her pocket, and she picked it up. A message from Monika.

_Next week come to the pool for the swimming competition, you won’t regret it ;)_

Well, she definitely wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. She refocused her attention on the poker table, only to realize some sort of arm wrestling competition was being organized. And Lion was looking like he wanted to join.

“Go on Olivier, I’m going to fetch Zofia, she’ll also want to participate.”

As for her, Twitch always loved being the judge. And it was her prerogative as judge that everyone who participated had to be shirtless.


	12. A worthy prize - KapGlaz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Spetsnaz play card games and Kapkan wants recognition for wining (Kap/Glaz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by ruaniamh on tumblr

“Ha, that was my last card!” Kapkan crowed his victory with a smug look, making the rest of the Spetsnaz groan.

“I was so sure you didn’t have any threes or yellow cards!” Finka complained, irritated that Kapkan had won again.

“Fuck, I would have won if it had been my turn!” Fuze cursed at the same time Finka was talking.

This was the tenth round of Uno they had played, and the tenth round the hunter had won. Glaz was still miffed the poker cards had mysteriously disappeared, because as good as Kapkan seemed to be at this game, he wasn’t  _that_  good at poker. And yet he was sure Kapkan had not been cheating. Glaz knew all his tells very well and hadn’t detected a single one while playing.

“This is a stupid game,” Tachanka said. He’d always been a sore loser. “We should switch to drinking games. With lots of ice cubes in the drinks.”

Finka seemed to perk up at this, clearly seconding the idea. Glaz could go either way, not really caring much about what they did to distract themselves as long as they stayed in front of the fan. This heatwave was beating their collective asses and sleeping was nearly impossible.

“You’re just mad I win all the time.” Kapkan said with a shit eating grin, clearly enjoying the irritation of some of their team mates.

“Yes Maxim, you won all the games. Do you want a prize?” Glaz teased him with a fond smile. He could be an obnoxious pest sometimes, but he was Glaz’s obnoxious little pest.

“In fact I do. What’s my prize?”

Leaning over the table he went for a quick kiss to shut him up. Or that was the plan until Kapkan held him by the neck of his shirt and licked Glaz’s lips, turning the soft kiss into something else. Glaz put his hands on Kapkan’s shoulders to avoid falling over; then he closed his eyes, getting lost into the kiss and ignoring their team mate’s loud hooting and whistling.

“Was that a satisfactory prize?” Glaz asked him when they broke apart.

Kapkan made a show of thinking about it, before settling in a predatory glint. “It was a good start, but it’s not nearly enough!”

Expressing the thoughts of the rest of the group, Finka threw a ball of paper –the same page where they tallied their points and wins– at the hunter. “Get a room you two!”


	13. Strong moral convictions - FuzeGlaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written cause on Discord Grain_crain said something about " Use his matryoshka in a room and jump in the same room to kill the enemies while everything is in pandemonium" and the idea called to me like a siren

“Deploying cluster charge.”

Usually after that announcement, everyone would wait patiently until the people and furniture on the other side of the wall had been blown to tiny pieces by Fuze’s device. If the hostage or any civilians were there as well, it was considered a bad stroke of luck and Fuze himself would shrug it off and point all the terrorists were dead too, problem solved let’s go home. Except today a much panicked Pulse had just informed them the only remaining hostage was a child.

Glaz stood stunned, first processing the information and later seeing Fuze dash into the very same room they all wanted to avoid at all costs, followed by the screams of their team mates telling him to not do it. His heart lurched painfully and cold dread settled in his stomach like a stone. He couldn’t lose Shuhrat, he just couldn’t. And yet if the explosive charges didn’t kill him, according to Pulse’s device there were three terrorist inside the room plus the hostage. The odds of Fuze surviving were minimal.

Before he could think it through, he was being held back by Pulse and Thatcher, yelling at him to not be stupid. Blood thrummed on his ears and Glaz held his breath as explosions and gunshots were heard on the other side of the wall. Seconds ticked by long as hours. No more noise, just his own frenzied heartbeat and their agitated breathing. Fuze came out of the room with a child in his arms, wide eyed and pale and clearly in shock. But alive. They both were alive, although Fuze was bleeding from his left arm. Pulse tried to take the kid from him, but she was clinging to Fuze’s neck and need to be persuaded to let go.

Glaz rushed up to Fuze and hugged him, uncaring of who might see and what they would think. “How...?”

“Used the bed as a barricade, I was lucky.”

“That’s-” Glaz didn’t know what to say so he just tightened his arms over him, carful to not press his wound on the arm. “You ever do something like that again and I will kill you.”

Glaz was sure he heard Fuze whisper _“No you won’t”_ but he decided to overlook it in favour of taking out a medkit to patch him up. Damned idiot didn’t know how to properly take care of himself, even if he was a hero.


	14. Not like this - Doc Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOC DIES! DOC DIES! DOC DIES! Is that clear enough? DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T WANNA SEE DOC DIE DURING OUTBREAK!

“What in God’s name is that?!” Lion yelled, alerting everyone over the chaos of the fight.

Doc was checking up on doctor Mackintosh, making sure she didn’t show signs of the infection, while Smoke and Lion dealt with the horde of infected and mutated hostiles swarming them. Except more kept coming. And, as Lion pointed, something too big was coming as well.

“Throwing smoke!”

The room was filled with the trademark gas, choking and slowing down the hostiles. Doc helped doctor Mackintosh stand and hurried to get her out of here, the rest of the team hot on their heels. He had counted on the new and bigger hostile to not be agile enough to climb into the balcony. He was so wrong.  

The hulking thing was blocking their way out, and the rear was still under attack, leaving them effectively trapped. It looked at them with what Doc felt was a lot of anger and malevolence before it charged against them. Without having enough space to manoeuvre, Doc instinctively pushed doctor Mackintosh out of the way. The mission always came first, and saving her was of vital importance.

Pain exploded all over his body, ribs creaking under the brutal push he received. His helmet cracked, saving his skull from that same fate when he was thrown against the wall. The hostile smashed Doc against the wall again, like he was a ragdoll. There was a metallic taste on his mouth. The yelling of his teammates mixed with the howling of the infected in a horrible cacophony and his head spun like he was drunk.

“We have to at least try to get doctor Mackintosh to safety! Nothing matters more than the possibility of a cure.” Lion’s screaming pierced thought the haze of Doc’s mind.

“Out of my way, you muppet! That thing’s going to crush _our_ medic.”

Doc wanted to tell them to carry on with the mission and open fire on that _thing_ , but he could barely breathe. He was finally released from its painful grip and he slid to the floor like a broken doll. The hulking mutant stomped on the ground, as if it was angry that Doc was still alive despite its best efforts. The half broken balcony didn’t withstand the abuse and cracked in half. Smoke rushed to bring him to safety, but he was too far and didn’t arrive on time. Both Doc and the smasher fell down to the street.

Rubble covered him and Doc couldn’t move it out of the way. He tried, but his arms wouldn’t respond. He could barely breathe properly too. The blood and dust lodged on his throat made him cough, bringing a bright stab of pain in his chest. Pneumotorax. And some broken ribs, although he was in too much pain to gauge how many. If they got quickly to the helicopter and brought to base, he had good chances to-

Even partially covered by the rubble and debris, the smasher had located him. Doc was powerless to do anything as he saw the abomination approach him, its red eyes trained on him the whole time. Smoke and Lion were yelling something, trying to catch its attention. All to no avail. The first hit of the massive fists caught him on the chest, breaking the rest of his ribs and cracking his sternum. The pain was so intense he barely noticed as it stomped over his legs, trampling them. The next hit of its fists crushed his helmet and his head. He retained consciousness for a few seconds before sweet darkness overtook him. His last thought was _“Not here, not like this”_. Then there was no more pain.


	15. What happens in Las Vegas... - BanditJäger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bandit's prank on Jäger backfires in an unexpected way

Jäger stirred in his sleep and Bandit waited for him to wake up. He’d been waiting for a while now. The effervescent feeling of anticipation was nearly suffocating him, and he was dying to see Jäger’s reaction. If he didn’t wake up soon Bandit was considering _‘_ _accidentally_ _’_ kicking him in his sleep and feigning a snore afterwards to add credibility to his innocence. He needn’t go that far though, since Jäger had already awakened and was stretching out.

Bandit barely controlled his mirth as Jäger froze mid stretch, after his arm had knocked him in the back.  He pretended to wake up at the contact, sitting up on Jäger’s bed and looking at him. The engineer’s look of utter confusion was priceless.

“Dominic? Why’re you in my bed?” Jäger slurred his words, voice still thick from sleeping.

“Is that how you greet your husband?” Bandit put on an irritated front, covering his mouth as if yawning but in fact he was hiding a smirk. Coincidentally, that movement also highlighted the golden band on his finger.

Jaw slack in surprise, Jäger quickly checked his own hands only to discover a ring on his finger too. He looked back at Bandit, eyes wide open in surprise, like he was waiting for a clarification. None came.

Jäger was going through a full face journey, and Bandit was watching raptly to not miss a second of it. He began with confusion, of course, before quickly moving to alarm. Bandit could nearly see his thought progress. The situation was preposterous, except they had gone to America for an operation, in Las Vegas more precisely. And after a job well done, some of them had hit the casinos to unwind for the night. So them getting drunk married was actually a distressing possibility. Then Jäger’s face descended into incredulity, and from there it would be just a short trip to dawning horror. Bandit could barely contain his laughter. However, instead of plummeting straight into a horrified grimace, Jäger’s brain took a wrong turn somewhere and his face slowly morphed into an awed expression that Bandit had never expected.

“We married?” Jäger asked him, oddly hopeful and destroying all of Bandit’s plans in a single breath. Jäger had no business being this adorable and looking at Bandit like he was wonderful. He wasn’t.

The whole situation was quickly careening away from Bandit’s control, slipping through his fingers. “Uh... I...”

The engineer was smiling like this was the best news of his life and Bandit couldn’t understand why. Perhaps Jäger drank too much last night and was still intoxicated. Yeah, that made sense. Still smiling like an idiot, Jäger reached up to Bandit’s face and softly caressed it. He leant forward, softly tugging at the beard, and Bandit instinctively closed the gap between them in a hesitant kiss. Jäger’s lips were chapped and it was overall too chaste compared to Bandit’s usual way of kissing. He wished it would never end.

“I never thought you’d feel that way too.” Jäger was beaming at him and Bandit was still trying to find his footing after this revelation. This couldn't be happening. Bandit never imagined the engineer could harbor feelings for _him_ of all people.

Jäger moved as if he was going to kiss him again, and Bandit stopped him. “For fuck’s sake, it was a joke Marius! You were supposed to be horrified at the idea and then...”

And then Bandit had no idea how to continue because the situation wasn’t funny anymore. Jäger took this revelation calmly, only flinching slightly at Bandit’s words.

"Why would I be horrified?" He asked, not quite looking at Bandit.

"Why _wouldn't_ you?" Bandit looked at him like he expected Jäger to pop up a second head anytime. If he wasn't one hundred percent sure Jäger was unable to pull it off without giving himself away, Bandit would think he was being made fun of.

 “Oh, Dom,” Jäger sighed, a little disbelief creeping into his voice.

He closed the gap between them slowly, giving Bandit ample time to stop him or pull away. However, once their lips touched again Bandit took the initiative, slipping his tongue in and turning it from chaste to lustful and possessive in a matter of seconds.

“Hmm,” Jäger looked positively radiant and dazed when they stopped kissing. “You still need to make it up to me for this fake married prank.”

Well, wasn’t that an opportunity handed to him on a silver platter? Bandit nipped Jäger’s earlobe and whispered. “Since we’re fake married, do you want to have a fake honeymoon?”


	16. Insecurity - BanditJäger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bandit is totally not a jealous boyfriend, ok? (aka: blatant lies)

If looks could kill, Maverick would fall down fulminated by the contempt in Bandit’s gaze. Alas, Maverick was happily unaware of the ire he was provoking in the German defender, and continued talking with Jäger.

At surface level, everything was innocent enough, just a friendly conversation between two coworkers. Bandit knew better. He'd been watching them from a distance for a while now, seething as he catalogued all of Maverick's movements and every touch he inflicted on Jäger. There was nothing casual in the way he leant into Marius while they talked, or whatever lame excuse he made up before showing off his tattooed and muscular arms. Who did he think he was, that little grubby raccoon preening in front of _his_ Marius. As if he could impress him!

Excepte he probably could, otherwise Bandit wouldn't be grinding his teeth as he watched them. Unkempt and rugged, blond with a beard and tattoos? That was a perfect description of Jäger’s type. He would know, after all. The only difference being that Maverick was bulkier than Bandit, and less prone to be an asshole to others just for the fun of it. Clearly a model upgrade, and the thought turned Bandit’s stomach. Losing Marius would destroy him. He avoided showing how important the engineer was to him, mainly because showing his weakness so clearly to everyone was nothing short of terrifying, but Marius was more important to him than he could articulate. He had to do something about this situation.

Bandit strode towards them, face thunderous and a single purpose in his mind. He hugged Jäger from behind, one arm around Jäger’s waist and the other slung down his shoulders and over the engineer’s chest.

“Hey _liebling_ , how’s it going?” Bandit shamelessly punctuated his question with a kiss to Jäger’s neck, causing him to blush fiercely.

“D-Dom!” Jäger’s squeak of surprise was adorable and Bandit smirked triumphantly back at the American intruder, a gesture that went unnoticed by Jäger but not by Maverick. “I was asking him about his gadget, it’s really interesting. And he made it himself from scratch!”

Bandit gave a hum that could be interpreted as vague interest, but he couldn’t care less about it. He kissed Jäger’s neck again, biting it softly until he left a mark. Maverick looked at him like it was the funniest thing he’d seen since joining Rainbow.

“Honestly Dom! What’s gotten into you?” Jäger was all flustered, unused to Bandit being this clingy. Especially in public.

“I just missed you, ok?”

Now Jäger turned around to look at him, suspicion written all over his face. “Since breakfast? It’s not even midday... Oh _schei_ _ße_ , are you using me as an alibi again? What did you do this time?”

He tried to be affectionate and this was how Marius reacted? Maverick looked like he was about to laugh and it made Bandit’s blood boil. “What, so I can’t just miss you?!”

“I see you’re busy, I’ll go. See you later,” Maverick gracefully went away, but his words were like a slap to Bandit.

“You’re meeting with him later?” He nearly hissed. Damn the American to hell and back. Well, he planned on not letting Marius go anywhere until he was covered in hickeys and Bandit’s back scratched like a cat had attacked him.

“Yes? And so are you, or have you forgotten about training? You’re being weird today, Dom. Are you alright?” Jäger even had the gall to put his hand on Bandit’s forehead, as if he had a fever. He caught his hand and kissed it, which only confused Jäger even more.

“Training later, you said, Jägerchen? Do you want to help me replace some of the training weapons for water ones? C’mon, it’s going to be hilarious.”


	17. Lucky - KapGlaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short snippet was born because of an adorable doodle posted on Discord. It was really really cute guys, I tried my best to do it justice!

 Meal times in the base where never a quiet, peaceful affair. As used as Kapkan was to it, today he was not in the mood to join the ruckus. In the distance, Ash and Mira yelled at each other about the correct way of boiling pasta. Meanwhile Bandit snickered and constantly looked at the chair where Mute usually sat, probably waiting for the young brit to appear and fall for one of Bandit’s pranks. Just a normal day at Hereford Base.

Kapkan was bored. Fuze and Tachanka were coming back from an operation on the States and Glaz still hadn’t arrived from  training. And speaking of the devil, in that moment the sniper entered in the room, looking irritated. His training session with the new recruits didn’t go well, then. The phone beeped in his hands, the noise drowned by the utter chaos reigning in the cafeteria. Kapkan unlocked it with a sigh. If it was another soviet cat meme from Fuze he was going to throw the phone at his head as soon as he was back. A shadow obscured the light and Kapkan looked up, only to find Glaz still in full gear right by his side.

“Hello sunshine.” Glaz bent down to kiss his cheek, humming happily as he did so. Even through their balaclavas, the contact was electrifying. Kapkan remained frozen on the spot, not knowing how to react to such an overt display of affection while everyone watched.

Glaz went to grab some food while Kapkan looked at his phone without seeing the screen, acutely aware he was blushing furiously and his dignity and reputation were only saved by the hood and scarf hiding his face.

Smoke passed by his side and nudged him, his grin morphing into a leer when he saw how flushed Kapkan was. “Cheer up mate, you’ll probably get lucky tonight!”

“Piss off before I break your legs, Porter.” Kapkan barked at him, but he wasn’t looking at Smoke. Kapkan’s gaze followed Glaz, still marvelling at how he ever managed to get together with someone like Glaz. “I’m already lucky.”


	18. Men prefer blondes - KapGlaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm blaming stimmypistol again for this, just like the previous one. You keep providing ideas and I keep wanting to write them, oh lord *wipes sweat*

Pub nights were always wild. Mixing elite operatives, who were either bored or stressed, with alcohol always led to strange and unpredictable results. Last time, Glaz had awoken in the TV room couch. More precisely, he’d been sleeping snuggled on top of Kapkan, who was sprawled on the couch. At least both had been fully clothed, despite a hazy recollection of memories that indicated they planned otherwise. This time Glaz was on his bed, so it was an improvement. However, the pounding headache was the same as last time.

“Wake up, you lazy sods!” Thatcher yelled from the corridor, banging on the doors with too much enthusiasm. “Training in fifteen!”

Glaz groaned and covered his eyes to protect them from the sudden bloom of light. Of course Tachanka would open the window blinds like that, he never was hungover the lucky bastard. More regretful groans came from the bunks of Fuze and Kapkan, all slowly getting up from bed.

“What the fuck is this!” Kapkan’s yelling echoed in Glaz’s skull, unwelcome and jarring.

Upon looking at Kapkan, he immediately understood the source of his distress. His head was covered in a white paste, hair matted with it. The hunter tried getting it out with his hand but he only succeeded in spreading it further. Taking pity on him, Glaz jumped from bed and accompanied his confused boyfriend to the shower. The water effectively cleared Glaz’s head from his alcohol induced fog, but the same could not be said for Kapkan’s confusion.

“Is it all gone?” Kapkan obsessively passed his hand over his hair, even though there was nothing else to rinse. Glaz bit his lip, trying to hold his laughter and thinking of a way to break the news to Kapkan. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Glaz opened and closed his mouth twice, at loss for words. Eventually he settled for a direct approach. “You’re blond.”

Eyes wide open in alarm, Kapkan dashed out of the shower to find a mirror. Deciding to be the responsible one, Glaz turned the water off and wrapped himself in a towel before going after Kapkan. He found the hunter in front of the mirror, squinting at his bleached hair and touching it softly. Under the harsh light of the fluorescents, it looked like the white halo of a saint. Needless to say, no matter how much Kapkan glared at it, his blond locks didn’t disappear.

“I’m going to kill both Bandit and Smoke.” Kapkan’s utter seriousness would be more frightening if he wasn’t standing naked in a puddle of water.

Of course, whenever some prank happened, the culprits were those two. Although Glaz had to admit he was impressed in how they managed to cover all of Kapkan’s head with the bleaching product without waking him up.

“It doesn’t look that bad.” Glaz wrapped the extra towel around Kapkan’s waist and kissed his neck. “But to me you always look good.”

Kapkan’s reflection showed him he was smiling faintly, but his expression turned flinty soon enough. “I’m still going to kill them during the sparring session.”

It was a completely understandable reaction, and Glaz knew better than to stand in the way of some deserved vengeance. Besides, he always enjoyed seeing Kapkan mop the floor with someone when it came to close quarters combat.


	19. Unrequited - TachankaKapkan

The cold air of a November night might urge people to get into the pub quicker, but Kapkan was used to the cold. He revelled in the cold. In contrast, the inside of the pub felt suffocating, too hot and full of noise. In that moment he understood why Glaz had opted to stay home.

A burly arm rose over the crowd, waving at him. That was the reason Kapkan was here instead of cuddling Glaz in their bed, Tachanka had just come back from a long operation in Asia and it was a Spetsnaz long standing tradition to celebrate the return by going drinking. And by Spetsnaz tradition Kapkan meant him and Tachanka. They had worked together for many years now, and he was glad the old man was back. Their team wasn’t the same without him. He reached the table where Tachanka was seated and had barely taken his coat off when Tachanka caught him in a brief but crushing hug.

“Is Shuhrat coming?” Kapkan sat down on the chair, the old wood creaking slightly under the strain.

“Bailed out at the last moment, said he already had plans he couldn’t postpone.”

Kapkan shrugged, unsurprised by the answer. “More drink for us, I say.”

The waitress came and they ordered the usual, a bottle of vodka. The first time they drank post mission had been back in Russia, still in the field and hands stained with blood. The vodka had been cheap, probably distilled in someone’s basement, and strong enough to make them cough after the first taste. Now it was a fancy imported bottle, the location a nice cozy pub instead of a frozen field. Tachanka poured a glass shot for each.

“How was Hong Kong?” Kapkan asked after taking his first shot in one gulp. The glasses clinked as they set them back on the table.

“A horrible mess.” Tachanka’s grunt left no doubt of how much he didn’t enjoy his time there. “The fucking bastards planted bombs all over the city and then hid in an abandoned theme park.”

The lack of news about an attack in Hong Kong, plus the fact Tachanka looked grouchier than usual but not gloomy, led Kapkan to the conclusion the operation had been a success. That fact alone was worth celebrating.

“Pour another. You all came back in one piece, yes? That’s good.”

The next shot they took after clinking their glasses together in a wordless toast. Then, to break the silent spell that had fallen over them, Tachanka told him about an old friend of theirs he had casually met at the airport. Drink flowed freely for the next hours, as did their laughter. When they were politely reminded that it was closing time and they should go home. Looking at the glasses on the table, a stupid doubt assaulted Kapkan: was it their first bottle or the second? No, it was too full to still be the first. Definitely the second. The room spun as Kapkan got up from the chair, and he nearly stumbled back into it. Tachanka staggered his way up to the counter and threw a handful of money there. Next thing Kapkan knew they were out, the stinging cold clearing his head somewhat.

“Goin’ back home?” Tachanka asked him, buttoning up the coat while they stood in the middle of the empty sidewalk.

Seeing as his friend was unable to put the buttons in the correct holes, Kapkan decided it would be for the best to walk him home. Tachanka protested, but he still put his arm over Kapkan’s shoulders as he adamantly walked next to Tachanka and ignored his complaints. Despite the icy wind, Kapkan felt too warm. It was a combination of the drink in his belly and the heat coming from having Tachanka pressed against him.

After walking just two streets, they were already at Tachanka’s apartment. They had chosen that pub precisely because it was close for both. Walking up the stairs in silence was difficult since the situation seemed hilarious to both of them. Even if they stifled their chuckles, the sound still echoed loudly in the dead of the night. Opening the door to the apartment was also quite the ordeal, since Tachanka’s aim was completely off and he kept scratching the lock with the key.

Once inside, they collapsed on the couch, Tachanka promising he’d make coffee for them both to sober up. However, they sat in the dark, the small dining room illuminated by the light of the lampposts coming from the window. Their breathing evened out and Kapkan wasn’t sure if Tachanka was awake or not. He should go before he fell asleep too.

“You know, some nights I can’t sleep and then I lie there and think,” Tachanka said as Kapkan was about to get up. “I think about how lucky Timur is.”

Kapkan turned around, brow knitted together. “What do you mean?”

There was no immediate answer, and Kapkan was ready to write it off as drunken nonsense, but then Tachanka spoke again.

“I think of how it must be to wake up next to you every morning. We’d lie in bed, and I’d kiss you and you’d protest you wanted five more minutes, but I’d continue kissing you until you were completely awake. We’d fuck, I’d make love to you, and we’d probably be late for training more than once but we wouldn’t mind. We’d fight back to back as we’ve always done, and each night I’d go to sleep with you in my arms, knowing how lucky I was to have you by my side.”

Staring vacantly at the wall, Kapkan struggled to find an answer, but all air seemed to have left his lungs and his mouth was dry. Eventually, he broke the awkward silence that had fallen over them. “Alex, I...” he had no idea of what to say. Was this true? How had he never noticed before? His heart was beating too fast and his hands shook despite how tight he balled his fists.

Finally gathering the courage to look at Tachanka, he noticed his head was resting against the couch, neck bent in an uncomfortable position. He had fallen asleep and snored softly. Oh.  Perhaps Tachanka wouldn’t remember this in the morning. It would be for the best, wouldn’t it? Nonsensical drunken rambles that were better forgotten. Kapkan waited until the knot he felt on his chest dissipated and then he bolted out of the apartment, uncaring of how much noise he made.

The cutting wind was too cold even with a jacket, but Kapkan didn’t notice it. He was going home, back to his boyfriend. He loved Timur, more than he’d ever be able to convey with words. However, guilt was eating him from inside, since a part of him also longed for what Tachanka wanted. He wished he could also forget it all come morning, but he knew it was a hopeless wish. The words were already seared into his heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ages ago as a stress ficlet and I never intended to do anything more with it, but it could make a good introduction to the concept of poly Spetnsaz, or just more heartbreak. Haven't done anything more with it yet, so it gets posted as it is.


	20. Addiction - SmokeLesion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick ficlet I wrote for [stimmypistol](https://stimmypistol.tumblr.com) ❤︎

Smoke had a problem. Few people knew, and it wasn’t something he was likely to share with just anyone, but he was the human equivalent of the cookie monster when it came to chocolate. Especially white chocolate. He’d been the one who ate Zofia’s secret stash, although Bandit got blamed for it. And now Smoke couldn’t tear his eyes away from the red box that beckoned him like a siren’s call.

It stirred an odd feeling in Smoke’s gut, the sight of Lesion opening the lovingly wrapped box and inspecting its contents for a second before focusing on the accompanying card. Obviously, this was a Valentine’s gift. Something hot and undefined bubbled in his chest. Who was sending Lesion chocolates? If they were seriously attempting to court the man, they should have known Lesion preferred salty and spicy food over any sweets. The message in the card mustn’t have been very inspired either, since Lesion’s expression didn’t shift at all while reading it. In fact, he dropped the pink card and looked at Smoke, as if he’d known the brit was there before lifting his gaze from the message.

“Want something?”

Approaching Lesion with a smirk, Smoke pointed at the red box with his head. “Got a little something for Valentine’s, I see. Spill mate, who has their sights on you?”

“It’s not important,” Lesion put the card conveniently out of Smoke’s reach, “and it’s not what you imply.”

Those words brought a wave on roaring elation on Smoke’s mind, as short lived as his attention span during one of Thatcher’s lectures. He’d analyse that later on, preferably after he got piss drunk. For now, he had something more important to focus on than his confusing feelings.

“So you’re not gonna eat all those then?” The chocolate box lay innocently on the auxiliary table, waiting to be plundered. And if Lesion didn’t care for sweets, nor did he apparently care for whoever sent it… it all could be Smoke’s.

With maddeningly slow movements, Lesion grabbed the box, put it on his lap and selected one of the delicious confectioneries. “Would you like one?” Smoke went to take it, only to see how Lesion ate it right in front of him. “I only asked if you wanted it, never said you could have it.”

“Hahahaha, what a prick you are!” He could appreciate the humour in the situation, Lesion played him and he’d fallen for it. However, instead of laughing along, Lesion gave him one of his enigmatic little smiles, like he was the bloody Mona Lisa.

“Oh yes, I love pricks. Always ready to give it a shot.”

Smoke gaped at him, his mind still reeling and trying to process what he just heard. There was no way that hadn’t been intentional, even if the bastard was now looking at Smoke with that nonchalant expression like he had just made a remark about the weather. Lesion then put another chocolate in his mouth, lips wrapping around it in an almost obscene way, and something snapped inside Smoke’s brain. He lunged forward, smashing his lips against Lesion’s.

It was not gentle, but it wasn’t overly aggressive either. Smoke held Lesion’s face with both hands as he greedily licked the sweet taste off of Lesion’s lips. He knotted his fists in Smoke’s sleeves, pulling the Brit harder against him and opening his mouth into the kiss. Lesion tasted sticky sweet, the chocolate melting between their tongues. Someone groaned, and it took Smoke a second to realise it had been him. How could he not when this was like one of his secret fantasies come to life? If now he heard the alarm from his clock and this turned out to be a dream, Smoke would be pissed. However, Lesion felt pretty solid and warm against him, still chasing Smoke’s tongue despite the fact that the chocolate had melted completely a while ago. Eventually they had to break apart to breathe, Smoke licking and wetting his still tingling lips.

“Bet that after this you can’t say anymore you don’t like sweets, Liu.”

It was in Smoke’s nature to brag and boast, it was better than awkward silences. He watched mesmerized how Lesion’s face went from slightly dazed to a small frown.

“If you can kiss me like that, you can call me by my name, Porter.”

This was by no means the answer he expected. In fact, it was now Smoke the one frowning confused. He thought he’d been calling Lesion by his name, but he’d been messing up. No wonder then he always replied with Porter; it wasn’t Lesion being cold towards him; he was just treating Smoke as the Brit treated him. Time to rectify that blunder.

“Sure! Why don’t you come to my room? You can show me how much you like pricks, and we can try calling each other by name.”

His statement went accompanied by an outrageous wink, and he wasn’t surprised that Lesion laughed. However, he was surprised by the answer. “Just you, me, and the chocolates then? Or do you want me to find a prick who isn't you?”

"Babe, this prick will rock your world!"

Smoke had expected a rejection, as usually, but this was leagues better. Even if all they did was eat more chocolates like they had done moments ago he would still consider it a huge victory.


	21. First meeting - MiraGridlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was born cause both Mira and Gridlock are mechanics, badass, and I think they'd be great friends (and more). Also because I thirst for them both xD

The garage was one of Mira’s favourite places in the base when she needed some quiet time. Few people ventured here, and tinkering with vehicles was calming for her, it reminded Mira of working with her dad. So after yet another confrontation with Ash, she took up Caveira on her request to fix the Brazilian’s motorcycle. Spanners and stubborn motors were better than the tense atmosphere and judging eyes upon her.

Mira’s bubble of concentration crashed when she noticed the exact screwdriver she needed was missing from the toolbox. She hated people misplacing her tools, more so when they didn’t even ask for permission before taking them. A muffled clanking sound came from somewhere to her left, accompanied by an indistinct muttering that Mira would bet were curses of frustration. Decided to find who the thief was, Mira strode towards the source of noise like a thundering cloud. Whoever it was, she would give them a good reason to curse.

The sight of a battered military truck with an Australian flag patch, and what looked like the SAS emblem painted on the side, was not what Mira had been expecting. Even more surprising was to see a woman she hadn’t seen before working on its motor, a plume of smoke slowly rising from it. Oh, this probably was one of the new arrivals Six, Harry, said would be joining Rainbow soon. So this had to be Gridlock. Her anger deflated like a punctured balloon when the woman noticed Mira was standing there and turned around to face her. Those were the kindest and most amazing green eyes Mira had ever seen. And her arms, oh lord! The newcomer looked like she’d be able to lift the motorcycle over her head without breaking a sweat. Mira reminded herself that openly staring at someone with an open mouth was considered rude.

“Need anything?” The Australian kept an eye on her while still working on the motor. She had a smudge of grease on her face, just like Mira probably did too.

Pointing at the screwdriver Gridlock was using, Mira cleared her throat. “That’s the screwdriver I always use.” Oh great, now she sounded like a whiny preschool kid asking for her favourite toy back. Suppressing a grimace at her own words, Mira rallied on. “Motor giving you trouble? I have a stubborn one back there too.”

Gridlock, god bless her, ignored Mira’s earlier blunder and smiled, launching into a rapid explanation of what was wrong with this motorcycle. Between Gridlock’s Aussie accent and Mira’s own shaky grasp of some English vocabulary, she understood about half of it. Something about her friend being an idiot and bullets. That Mira could understand perfectly, she was always fixing Caveira’s old motorcycle, or helping Tachanka with his battered LMG. At least Jackal rarely wrecked things that later she had to fix.

“Do you want help? Two sets of hands work faster than one.” That, and she couldn’t work on her own project if Gridlock was also using the same tools Mira needed.

“Sure, thank you! I can help you later with yours, if you want?” Gridlock cleaned her hands on a dirty rag before offering Mira a handshake. “Tori.”

“Elena,” Mira accepted the offered hand, smiling widely.

It was great to have another mechanic on the team, one that loved getting her hands dirty as much as Mira did. Although Manu and Marius would gladly join them if Mira asked. However, there would be time for group meetings and introducing her to the engineering team later. For now, she wanted to gauge how Gridlock was and how she worked in a more relaxed setting, since it was already clear they’d be sharing this space often. Surprisingly enough, Mira didn’t mind as much as she had imagined she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time Gridlock's tag is used, woo!


	22. Swapping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in answer to an ask i got from [tsarethan](https://tsarethan.tumblr.com/%22) on my tumblr, thank you for the idea/prompt!

Sledge couldn’t stop thinking he was underdressed for an operation, even if it was just training. The tactical vest, balaclava and helmet felt rather suprefluous when from the waist down he was only clad in a pair of worn and ripped jeans. And sneakers! He missed the sense of security his usual boots afforded. He could see his teammates were equally unsure of their new attire. Mute wouldn’t stop fiddling with the balaclava, and Thatcher was glaring at his reflection in the changing room’s mirror.

“Can you stop fiddling with that, for fook’s sake!” Thatcher finally exploded, giving poor Mute a dirty look.

“I can’t help it, this shite’s itchier than the wool scarf mum sent me last year!”

“You wear a bloody gas mask all day long, but complain about a balaclava? Unbelievable.”

“Don’t mind him Marky, he’s just grumpy cause the jeans are too tight for him,” Smoke smirked. “Can’t believe it almost looks like ol’ Maggie has a decent arse after all!”

Sledge had to get involved, before Smoke committed suicide by teasing Thatcher too much. Mute was of no help, laughing himself sick while Smoke tried to pinch Thatcher’s backside. They were saved of certain disaster by none other than Bandit, who strode in stomping, followed by Jäger.

Seeing the Germans in proper military gear was odd, probably as odd as it was for them to see the SAS in the usual GSG9 getup. However, in Sledge’s slightly biased opinion, the bulky overall and big boots looked great on Jäger. The pilot looked at ease with those clothes, even if they were a bit too big for his lanky frame. Although the pilot wasn’t wearing a gas mask, but his usual and beloved helmet. 

“This harness is stupid,” Bandit complained, his voice muffled by the gas mask he wore. “I feel like it’s framing my nuts like a push-up bra.”

“You only know how to complain,” Jäger sighed, obviously this was a comment that he’d heard before, probably about a dozen times while they put on this ensemble.

Any further complaints from Bandit’s part were drowned by Smoke and Mute wolf-whistling at the two newcomers. While Jäger looked adorable, both Blitz and IQ looked comfortable and stunning in the SAS military clothings.

“Ready for it?” IQ asked them, garnering hoots of approval from both teams. “Let’s go then!”

“Let’s look alive out here guys,“ Blitz said while leading his team away to prepare for it. 

This training exercise was either going to be a fun one or a complete disaster. Sledge looked at the gadget he had to use, noticing for the first time how small Blitz’s shield actually was. He hoped the other man would be able to swing his hammer without injuring himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can see what I'm currently up to on [my tumblr](http://r6shippingdelivery.tumblr.com/) :D


	23. Party Hard - SmokeLesion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired 100% because of a conversation with [catfacedcryptid](https://catfacedcryptid.tumblr.com/) and written in a frenzy cause inspiration be like that sometimes

Smoke awoke to a pounding headache, the kind that made you want to be dead instead. His mouth tasted weird and he was lying face down on the bed, which was perfect to avoid getting an eyeful of that cursed sunlight coming in from the window. **  
**

He tried to get up, but the room spun wildly when he did that. Wow, last night he sure went wild. He hadn’t gone in such a hard bender for some time now, being part of the counter-terrorism elite didn’t leave much room for drinking until you passed out. At least not if he wanted to keep the job.  A pitiful groan rose from somewhere under the sheets, and oh crap, Smoke had no idea he brought someone back to his room. In fact, he now realised he could barely remember last night. Keeping his growing panic in check, Smoke lifted the duvet to see who was hiding under.

“Ugh, why is it so bright?” Lesion covered his eyes with his forearm, and Smoke heaved a big sigh of relief.

It would have been awful having to explain to his supposed one-night stand he didn’t remember their name or even why he brought them home. But this was Lesion, his friend. It wasn’t the first time Lesion came over to his flat, or that they went drinking together. And since they were both completely clothed, Smoke would assume nothing untoward had happened between them. Which if he was being honest, was a shame. On second thought, it was good actually, he’d like to remember it if they had sex.

“James?” Lesion turned around to look at him, still shielding his eyes from the light. “Why am I in your bed?”

“Fuck if I know, mate. I guess we went drinking  and had a bit too much?”

Lesion groaned again, burying his face against Smoke’s arm. If it wasn’t for the terrible headache, this would be really nice. However, what Smoke craved the most at the moment was a nice shower and a cup of hot coffee. Unfortunately, if he wanted those things, he would have to move from bed.

“Do you remember the singing or did I dream that?”

That question was the verbal equivalent of a wake up slap, jogging Smoke’s memories back in places with startling accuracy.

He ‘d been the one to suggest going out last night, in a desperate effort to cheer up Lesion. Since he got that call a week ago, about his father’s health, he’d been unusually subdued, quiet; his otherwise shining personality and humour stifled. Smoke wasn’t an insensitive asshole, not completely at least; he understood why Lesion was depressed by the news. However, worrying would not help Lesion’s father health, and while sadness was a normal reaction, wallowing in it wasn’t healthy. So Smoke did all he could to make his friend smile again, and yet nothing seemed to work.

The plan to make Lesion drink out his sorrows and then have fun might not have been the best idea in the world, but Smoke was out of options and fuck it, that always worked for him. It was worth a shot. Except they had way more than just a shot. He vaguely remembered cocktails, and gin shots, and something that tasted awful but yet they asked for another one cause it was strong as hell.

After that came the karaoke. The crowd at the pub was shy, so Smoke to the chance to go first and sang like a slightly tone deaf angel. He also choreographed it to the best of his abilities, pointing at Lesion and winking whenever he hit the line _“Then I saw her face, now I’m a believer”_ , which made people laugh and holler at him. To Smoke’s surprise, Lesion jumped on the chance to sing a duet with him, playing it up like smoke had done when singing alone. That pub had never seen a better rendition of  _Don’t go breaking my heart,_  nor a more drunken duo of wannabe singers. Smoke remembered cupping Lesion’s face at some point, looking at him while he sang  _“I gave you my heart”_.

Bloody hell, he couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried. However, they both had been too plastered to notice they were literally clinging to each other. Then came the tequila shots. Smoke had some foggy memories of suggesting to do body shots, and Lesion laughing and agreeing to it, then…

“Ah… the singing was real.” Smoke confirmed. “Did we get in a bar brawl?”

Lesion looked up at him in confusion, blinking as he tried to remember. He narrowed his eyes, and that was all the confirmation Smoke needed. “Someone asked me if you were a rent boy and how expensive you were.”

“So that’s why it started! I couldn’t remember the reason, only that someone lunged at you and I knocked them down.”

In fact, that had only been the start. Once the dude trying to assault Lesion fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, all hell broke loose. Smoke was attacked by two dudes at once, who stood no chance against him but still tried. He was certain they wouldn’t be so quick to jump into a fight in the future. A commotion near the pool table drew his attention, and Smoke remembered seeing Lesion juggling three pool balls while he said  _“I am the great Zenzibar!”,_  before he threw the balls at the guy approaching him with a broken bottle in hand. Lesion’s aim was flawless, hitting him in the head and the crotch.

Eventually, the owner managed to put them all out on the street, but not before someone threw a barstool through one of the windows. Police sirens were heard on the distance while Smoke and Lesion walked away, ignoring the yelling thrown at them. Last destination had been Smoke’s apartment, since it was closer. And that had been the end of their night out.

“Porter, where did you throw my pants?”

For the second time that morning, Lesion’s question left Smoke mentally reeling.

“Did we do it?”

“We wanted to, but I… fell asleep,” Lesion chuckled, scratching his head and looking way too cute for someone who was terribly hungover and smelled like sweat and stale liquor.

“Do you still want to?”

A heavy silence followed smoke’s offer, he could nearly see the cogs turning in Lesions’s head. “Yes, but when we don’t stink like this.”

“Please, don’t go breaking my heart!” Smoke’s fake outrage made Lesion snort in amusement, and that was victory enough for him. Happy, he rested his head on top of Lesion’s. “Did you know my shower is big enough for two?”


End file.
